With a squelch and a spray of blood, a blood-drenched Isabelle and the Hessian Horseman leapt through the other side of the gateway. Their ghostly steed let out a snort as his heavy hooves punched the ground. As they charged across the land, Isabelle angled her head to find out where they were heading. The minute she shook apart her crimson-crusted tresses to see, she promptly let out a loud 'BWAH!!!' of shock. The haunted land was filled with headless ghosts! Rococo aristocrats from the Reign of Terror, Tudor courtiers, common convicts, and strange tanned ghosts that were sporting odd silk robes that were secured by bands of wide stiff fabric. Each neck was exposed to the steely sky and gleamed with still-wet blood. Some phantoms had their heads with them, carrying them in their hands. Many of the ghosts' clothing were stained with large splotches and peony petals of dried blood.
As Daredevil jumped over a fallen tree, Isabelle's broken arm thwacked against one of the thick branches, bringing her back to grim reality. She let out a great yell, and tears of fear and pain began coursing down her bloody cheeks. "Oh God, what had I done to deserve this? Which deity have I accidentally provoked into punishment? Who?!" She sobbed inwardly? All Isabelle wanted was to go home to her little cottage on the edge of Sleepy Hollow, where she and her little cat Gigi lived. Eventually, the pain of her broken arm became too much to bear, and Isabelle faded.
Suddenly Daredevil stopped. They were standing in the courtyard of a foreboding Gothic manor.
The courtyard was comprised of alabaster pillars marking the entrance. Platforms displayed carved urns, and statues of hooded angels with mangled wings stood at various positions of the courtyard. Leading up to the entrance of the manor was a grand bone-white marble stone stairway. The Hessian dismounted Daredevil and lifted Isabelle's limp body and placed her on his shoulder like a bag of flour. Without further ado, the Horseman proceeded to stride into the manor.
When Isabelle came to, she found herself lying in a sumptuous four-poster bed. As she propped herself up, she noticed that her left arm was bandaged and set in a splint.
"Where the hell am I?" she wondered as she observed her splendid settings. "This place kind of reminds me of the rooms of Versailles that Maman used to tell me about….." The bed linens and the graceful canopy hanging above were made of a delicious amber and sapphire blue silk taffeta and damask; the chaise and chairs were of cherry wood and upholstered with cream velvet. There was also a vanity and stool in one corner of the chamber, both carved out of cherry wood. Splayed all over the walls were sapphire silk velvet curtains; scattered around the rest of the chamber were tables and other various pieces of furniture.
It wasn't until Isabelle pushed her hair out of her eyes that she realized just how filthy she was. She was covered in dried blood and dirt. There were brittle twigs and dead leaves in her matted grimy tresses. Isabelle's ankles and feet were coated with cuts, bruises, and dried mud. Isabelle looked down and let out a groan of dismay—her robe a l'anglaise was ruined!—the dress was streaked, splattered, just plain covered in blood, mud, and grass stains; the hem to her knees was in shreds, and there were terrible rents all over the gown. 'Bugger, I liked this dress,' she mentally whined.
As Isabelle got off the bed and proceeded to explore her bedchamber, she mused, "What wouldn't I give a bath." Almost instantly Isabelle felt someone seize her shoulders and steer her into a chamber where a grand tub of steaming scented water, awaited her. Dry lavender steeped in the water, giving it a light lilac hue, the flowers floating about lazily. Invisible hands immediately began to remove her clothing, while the remaining scraps of Isabelle's sleeve on her left arm were cut off. Before you could say "Jackson Robinson" Isabelle found herself standing only in her chemise, stays, and pocket hoops. The invisible hands unlaced her stays and untied her pocket hoops. With one stroke of the unseeable digit down her back, Isabelle's dirty cotton chemise hit the floor in strips, leaving her completely naked and thoroughly unnerved.
After several minutes of standing in the remains of her clothing trembling, Isabelle slowly turned around to face her disrober only to find nobody. Attempting nonchalance, she edged cautiously towards the tub. Testing the water's temperature, Isabelle sunk in. Bars of soap and wash cloths wielded by unseen hands, immediately started rubbing Isabelle's skin clean. Within an hour, Isabelle's skin was shining a healthy pink, though marred by pepperings of scratches and cuts. The bathwater though, was not that far removed from a supernatural pond; the water shimmered a thin watery red and there was a layer of fine sediment and leaves at the bottom of the tub. Animated towels began to srub Isabelle's body dry, while a fresh splint, complete with pristine cotton white bandages, gently wrapped itself around her broken left arm. Soon, a delicate chemise and a dressing gown of such fine quality that Isabelle could only dream of, hung from her shoulders. Her abused feet were bandaged and gloved in new stockings and soft slippers.
Honored and frightened by this strange pampering, Isabelle allowed herself to be steered back to her chamber where she discovered an ensemble of garments that had been laid out for her; a sumptuous robe a la polonaise, made of cream and coral pink striped silk, trimmed in matching cream ruffles. Placed beside the gown was a pair embroidered stays, panniers, a dainty petticoat, and various other pieces of clothing. On the floor, at the foot of the bed, stood a pair of pink silk mules, trimmed with white ribbons stood patiently.
"Excellent!" Isabelle gleefully noted, forgetting her unease momentarily.
Without further ado the rich garments entwining themselves about her slender frame. The seemingly benign actions suddenly began to overwhelm her, 'This is too much!' she rushedly thought as her mind began to race. Her fingers to feverishly fiddled with the ribbons on her chemise. "UWAH!!" She shrieked, upon discovering her self clothed.
Feeling faint, Isabelle allowed herself to be led to the vanity where animated combs coiffed her drying tresses into a silken and glossy mass of loops and coils. Failing to notice this as well, Isabelle stared unseeing into the vanity's mirror. It was wasn't until a pale cold hand touched Isabelle's contrasting flesh whilst laying a ribbon choker across her slender neck that she was startled back into grim reality. Isabelle jumped, stared at her paling reflection, and let out a frightened cry—it was the Hessian!!
Like a deer caught in the headlights, Isabelle was paralyzed with fear. It was the eyes. It had to have been. Those electrified blue eyes held Isabelle rooted to the spot in a vice-like grip. When the Hessian parted his lips and bared his filed teeth in a grimacing half grin, the spell was broken. Isabelle wasted no time in bolting from her spot in a desperate attempt to escape. Unfortunately, the Hessian's hand shot out, quick as lightning, and grabbed Isabelle's broken. Isabelle let out a ragged whimper of pain and tears began to well up in her eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, the Hessian let go of Isabelle's arm, and Isabelle sank to the ground clutching her left arm sobbing quietly, letting out ragged gasps every now and then. The Horseman bent down, picked up Isabelle, and carried her over to the chaise.
Isabelle then noticed that the Hessian Horseman was wearing something other than the armor he wore when he kidnapped her. He was wearing a black shirt, an ebony and silver vest; black breeches, stockings, and black shoes. As Isabelle's breathing slowed down, she felt her eyes wandering of their own accord, until they found the Hessian's frosted sapphire eyes. It took Isabelle little time to lose herself in those eyes; it was as if they were bottomless seas. After what seemed like hours, she pulled her sight away from the Horseman's face, Isabelle then did something very typical of ladies of her time: she fainted. The Hessian blinked a few times, then grinned his filed teeth in amusement. He then picked up Isabelle for a second time and carried her over to the four poster bed. What the unnight shall bring, only time will tell……………………
Mewls and gasps of pleasure pierced the heavy hot air as confident, cocky lips conquered eager flesh; teasing fingers trailed streaks of shimmering sensations that would fade away too quickly for Isabelle's liking. The saucy lips lowered themselves to the hollow of Isabelle's throat and began to pay homage by nipping gently and licking said bites to soothe them, causing delicious cinnamon coral waves of a rich feeling to ripple through-out Isabelle's body from the intensity of it all. Isabelle strained to see her mysterious lover's face, but the chamber was too dark. Fluttering butterfly moans and intangible writhing snakes of feverish heat filled the room. As her lover continued his ministrations, the coral waves began to lap harder at Isabelle's stomach. Suddenly, a geyser of shuddering hot pleasure shot through her core, sending Isabelle's mind to another plane, and as it went with its course, all the tapers in Isabelle's chamber suddenly illuminated, setting the room ablaze in crisp light. Trembling as her orgasm diminished, Isabelle slowly regained her sight, but the minute she locked eye contact with a pair of familiar icy sapphire eyes, her heart stopped and her blood ran cold.